


Blame It on My Battle Wounds

by zombiesbecrazy



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Jeremy and Jean never interact in canon but fanon had decided they are married, M/M, Therapy, fanfic of a fanfic, i don't make the rules, inspired by Blame It On My Youth, reference of canonical violence, sometimes parents aren't perfect but its important that they try, this is the most niche fic ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiesbecrazy/pseuds/zombiesbecrazy
Summary: Jeremy’s phone started to ring on the table, a picture of Jean and Alan sitting in the sand on the beach popping up, faces laughing in delight at something as they looked at each other.He didn’t even have a chance to say hello before Jean’s voice blurted out. “You need to come home.”“It’ll be another hour probably. We’re not done the meeting yet and…”“No. Jeremy. I need you to come home now.”
Relationships: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau
Comments: 28
Kudos: 148





	Blame It on My Battle Wounds

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blame It on My Youth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648907) by [youreyestheyglow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow). 



> I've had writers block for four months. Isolation has not been kind to my creativity.
> 
> This week I finally sat down to write and ended up writing a fanfic of a fanfic for a fandom that I'm not really even in. This is possibly the most niche fic ever. 
> 
> If you've read the All For The Game series, I highly recommend [Blame It on My Youth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24648907/chapters/59555758) by youreyestheyglow, set 10 years post canon. Anyway, this stems from Chapter 10, where Kevin and Neil have a conversation about their concerns about being parents based on their own upbringings and Kevin tells a story that Jean confessed to him that he hit his and Jeremy's son once. This is that moment. I hopefully did it and the original fic justice, because it is such a good story about growth and healing. 
> 
> Hopefully this got the writing juices flowing and I'll be back on my regular DC fic writing soon. Hope everyone is doing well! :)

Somehow Jeremy had been roped into working on his day off. The team’s PR department had asked for him to come in and assist with the ideas for the upcoming Fan Appreciation Day, insisting that he always had great ideas about the theme days that they never thought of, despite the fact that it was the job of at least three of the staff members to do exactly that.

Normally, Jeremy didn’t mind. PR was actually kind of fun, or as far as he could tell, this part was. It sort of reminded him of organizing team bonding activities or pep rallies back in college, just on a much larger scale. He was sure that if he had to deal with player scandals he’d probably have a different opinion; just imagine trying to be Josten or Minyard’s PR handlers. They were generally pretty private people but when they weren’t it was a nightmare and that was coming from Jeremy who had somehow ended up in a weird pseudo familial relationship with them through Jean and Kevin.

He was just tired. It had been a long weekend between the game in New York, Jean and Jeremy travelling back and forth and Alan staying with Jeremy’s parents, and all he really wanted to do was spend a lazy day with his family. They were planning on having a picnic in the backyard for lunch that Jeremy would be home in time for, but he longed for a Monday where the three of them could cuddle in bed for a few uninterrupted hours watching a movie. They were currently going through the Disney catalogue and one of Jeremy’s new favourite things was watching both Jean and Alan experience them together for the first time.

His attention drifted back to the people at the table with him. Sabrina, Brian and Ton all seemed to genuinely love their jobs, and their enthusiasm was infectious, Jeremy quickly forgetting that he didn’t really want to be there. “We’re giving away free t-shirts to everyone, and the first 10,000 people get hats, and the first 5,000 also get a bobble head. There are going to be games and face painting available for the kids. All concessions are going to be half price. We are working on a plan to give away one on one meet and greets with some of the players, but we are still working out the kinks for that before we bring it to the manager to talk to you guys about.” Sabrina was pointing to the designs on the screen. The shirts were a cool design and the bobble head demo shown was of Jean, including his racket swung over his shoulder, making Jeremy grin.

“That’s a lot.”

“The players won the championships last year and sold out every game. Our fans are loyal and are an essential part of the team. It’s the least that we can do.” Sabrina smiled, and touched her necklace charm. Last year’s team had gifted all of the staff behind the scenes with a necklace or a ring as a thanks for the work that they did behind the scenes for the organization. They got all the glory on the court, but there were so many more unsung heroes that had a hand in everything. “So? Any suggestions? You always have good ideas and we’d like to hear them before the actual event rather than kick ourselves later for not thinking of it.”

“What about personalizing the shirts if they want? We could set up stations throughout the building where people could get their favourite player’s name added to the back if they want. Jerseys are expensive, but people love them, so I think the shirts would be a hit. They’d have to line up, but if we have enough presses it would be pretty quick.” He thought so at least. He had a memory of a shirt printing station little league exy tournaments where kids could design their own shirts and it had been fun to get the word STRIKER written on the sleeve and a racket net splashed across the back. “One name per shirt, and just have lots of prints of all the current players names ready. Though I would like to make a special request for a little Knox-Moreau shirt for Alan if possible.” Alan had both Knox and Moreau swag, but the idea of him having one for the both of them made Jeremy smile.

“I like it. I’ll have to take a look at the budget but it should be doable. Maybe we can add some donations to our charity partners in exchange as well. Some sort of _‘you don’t have to, but it’ll be great if you donate and we’ll match it’_ thing.” Brian nodded as he took down some notes. “And Alan can always have any sort of merch he wants.”

“Don’t tell that to Jean or you’ll quickly find yourself out of stock,” Jeremy laughed. “What about bringing in some kids from local schools? Maybe 25 or 50 tickets to each of the 10 closest schools? The school would have to figure out how to distrib…” Jeremy’s phone started to ring on the table, a picture of Jean and Alan sitting in the sand on the beach popping up, faces laughing in delight at something as they looked at each other. Despite the picture, Jeremy frowned. Jean wasn’t a big fan of phone calls – he was much more of a texter – so it was out of character for him to do so, especially when he knew Jeremy was in a meeting. “Sorry, I need to take this.”

He didn’t even have a chance to say hello before Jean’s voice blurted out. “You need to come home.”

“It’ll be another hour probably. We’re not done the meeting yet and…”

“No. Jeremy. I need you to come home now.”

_Jeremy_. Jean rarely called him Jeremy. It was usually Remy or Jer or even Knox when they were at work and trying to keep it professional on the court, but after five years and a child together, Jeremy could count the amount of times that Jean used Jeremy on his fingers and toes. Nothing good would come from it.

It froze him to the core, alarm bells ringing and pulling him away from the meeting and into panicked thoughts of nightmare scenarios that he both shared with his partner and also kept to himself. “Jean. Is everyone alright?” He could hear the tightness in his own voice, the strain that pushing out the words had caused.

“No. I…” Jean paused, breathing deeply, and Jeremy could picture him pacing their living room like a caged animal, the way he sometimes did when he was stressed and needed an outlet but didn’t have the peace of mind to go outside and get some fresh air. It had been awhile since he had done that. Finally, he started up again. “Yes. We are alright. You need to come home now though.”

Jean hung up, and Jeremy stared at his phone before standing up. “Sorry, something came up. Maybe we can reschedule…” he was already out the door before he finished he sentence and he broke into a run as he ran through the halls to the parking lot. He knew the PR team wouldn’t care, he didn’t actually work for them, and even if they did Jeremy wouldn’t have cared that they cared. He needed to get home immediately.

His hand was shaking as it reached for the handle of their front door. Jean had said that he and Alan were fine, but at the same time, he had also started by saying that they weren’t before changing his mind. Or maybe something had changed in the twenty four minutes that it had taken Jeremy to drive from the stadium to their house. Was Alan hurt? Was Jean hurt? Had something happened to Jeremy’s family? Or worse, were the Moriyama’s there? It was ever present at the back of both of their minds that one day they would change their decision and suddenly say that Alan _was_ indebted to them, that he _belonged_ to them, just in the same way that Jean had and would take him away. There had been agreements that said otherwise, but it wasn’t like you could sign a binding contract with the yakuza to keep their promises and…

Jeremy stopped in his tracks.

Jean was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and chin resting on his clasped hands, tension coursing through is frame while he stared at the playpen under the window. At three, Alan was far too old for it, easily able to climb over the edges if he wanted to, but they had kept it set up anyway, instead using it for quick storage for stuffed animals and blankets, sometimes flipping it over to make a fort when they were playing, but it wasn’t used for its intended purpose anymore. Hopefully someday soon it would be used again; they were talking about adopting a second child. Had even set up a meeting with their adoption agency to start the process.

They were thinking about adopting a little girl next if possible and every time Jeremy thought of Jean with a daughter his heart melted.

Instead though, in the harsh reality of the moment, Jeremy was frozen from the pale and washed out look on Jean’s face, eyes empty of emotion and jaw clenched so tight it was surprising that there wasn’t an audible sound of teeth grinding. It was a look that Jeremy hadn’t seen on Jean’s face in years, not since when he was fresh from the Nest and out of Riko’s torture for the first time and barely holding himself together by mere threads, threatening to fall apart at the seams. Jeremy had stood by his side as Jean worked through his trauma, first as his captain and roommate, then as his friend, and after a few false starts, his partner, but Jean had done all of the heavy lifting. He was the one who had been to countless of hours of therapy. He was the one who to this day would still go days on end without sleeping after someone accidentally touched him in the grocery store the wrong way or reversely have night terrors so real that he would sleepwalk into the kitchen to scrub the tiles with his toothbrush for hours, whispering in Japanese for forgiveness as he did so. Those moments were fewer and far between now, but was still an endless battle. Fortunately it was one that Jeremy witnessed Jean fighting and winning every day.

Jean was the bravest man he knew and Jeremy fell in love with him more every day.

This moment he had arrived home to was a harsh 180 from the way he had left them this morning, sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal and playing ‘I Spy’.

He wanted to go to Jean, wrap him up in blankets and hide him from his demons, but the way that Jean was staring at the playpen made him think that there was a more important choice. Jeremy quickly walked over to the playpen, fear pounding in his ears about what he would find, only to be relieved and more than a little bewildered. Alan was in there, stuffed penguin in his arms and looking at a book with relative disinterest. There were tear tracks staining his cheeks and he looked well in need of a nap, but he was refusing to give in. He looked up at Jeremy silently, and fresh tears welled and spilled down his tiny face.

“Can you pick him up, please?” Jean’s voice was quiet and oh so small behind him, cracking with every word. “He needs a hug.”

“What happened? Why is he in baby jail?”

Baby jail. It had made them both laugh at the time but now it seemed something darker and bleak. “Hello, sweetheart. Would you like a snuggle?” Alan remained quiet, which was worrying, because Alan was rarely quiet, always chattering away about everything in a mishmash of English and French, but nodded and reached up for him as Jeremy lifted him up. Alan tucked his head against Jeremy’s chest and stuck his thumb in his mouth. Jeremy turned to Jean, silent question on his face has he kissed their son on the crown of his head, rubbing his back softly.

“I put him in there for his own safety. So he would be safe from me.” Jean somehow crumped even farther into himself. “I hit him, Jer. He was crying and he wouldn’t stop. Everything tried just made it worse and I just needed ten minutes to get all my records together for the audit tomorrow with _them_ and I hit him and he stopped. I slapped him on his face and there is going to be a bruise. You can see the mark already.” Jeremy was stunned, feeling like he had been the one who had been hit. Given a hundred guesses and he would have never thought that this is what had happened. He had forgotten about Jean’s impending meeting with the Moriyama accountants, something that always stressed Jean to the point of breaking, even when he knew he had nothing to hide, but he would never have suspected that Jean was at that level of anxiety about it. Everything had seemed fine this morning when he left. He cast his eyes down, now noticing that the pink on Alan’s cheek was brighter than if he were just flushed from crying. Jean dropped his face into his hands now and dug into his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I’m just like Riko. The Master. My father. Violence begets violence. I’ll leave. I have to. I’m not safe for either of you to be around. Not when that was my default reaction to a child in distress. I’m a monster.” He looked up again at Jeremy and Alan, and a tear slipped out and down Jean’s face, over the ghost of the removed tattoo. He had it removed in the weeks leading up to their wedding. _I don’t belong to them. I belong with you._

“I shouldn’t have children,” he whispered, maybe more to himself than to Jeremy.

It was soul crushing to hear him say the words because Jean _loved_ kids. He threw everything he had into being a good father and Alan adored him, thinking that his Papa had hung the stars just for him. Jeremy had spent so much time admiring, and, honestly, being a little jealous, of the bond that the two of them shared.

There had been a night in their dorm, days after they won the NCAA championships, a week before Jeremy was to be graduating, where they were first starting to tiptoe through the acknowledgement that there may be more between them than just friendship, where they had been sitting on the couch, watching a movie. “Do you want children someday?” Jean had asked abruptly and Jeremy didn’t have a chance to respond, hadn’t even had enough time to really think about it, before Jean continued. “I do. At least one, but probably two.” He kept his eyes trained on the screen, actively not watching the robots tearing each other apart. “It’s not something that I even thought I’d be able to have before but now that it is an option there is nothing that I want more.” Jean looked carefully beside him, trying to sort out if he was brave enough to take a big step and Jeremy’s heart had been pounding in anticipation before the words even left Jean’s lips. “Well, maybe there is one other thing.”

That was the first night that they had held hands, fingers tentatively touching until Jean had finally moved his hand to squeeze Jeremy’s tight as they watched the rest of the movie.

Jeremy had decided that night that he was never letting go.

“Jean,” Jeremy’s voice was soft and gentle, trying to remain calm for the both of them, while trying to keep his own feelings in check. He was confused and upset and trembling with an emotion he couldn’t name accurately. “You aren’t like them.” Jean wasn’t. He was a good man. He wouldn’t harm their child intentionally.

It just wasn’t adding up. Jeremy didn’t have a lot of experience with domestic abuse, but he was pretty sure it didn’t look like this. The way that Jean was spiralling convinced Jeremy that it wasn’t a pattern, it was a mistake. Mistakes weren’t unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean they could be forgotten.

“I struck our son. Our _child_. He did nothing wrong and I slapped him. I’m _exactly_ like them.”

“You aren’t. We both know that you aren’t. The simple fact that you are appalled by it proves that you aren’t like them.” Jeremy sighed. What was he supposed to do? What would his parents do? “I’m calling a family meeting.”

Jean looked around the room, as if he were waiting for more people to pop out of the closets and descend en masse. “I don’t understand. We are all already here.”

“It’s a thing my family did growing up. A family meeting meant that we were all going to have an important conversation and everyone got to participate to make their feelings heard, and then we would discuss it together as a family.” Jean’s eyebrow raised. “It’s a safe space where we can talk about everything. No worrying about punishment or lies in a family meeting.”

“He won’t understand. He’s a little kid.”

“A little kid who can talk and have opinions. Granted, those opinions are mostly about toys and bath time and that he doesn’t want to eat peas, but he still has them. If we start doing this type of thing when he’s small, he’ll grow up knowing that he can talk to us about anything and feel safe doing it.” Jeremy could remember so many of these meetings growing up, vivid memories of being gathered up with his parents and sisters around their dining room table and discussing major events, good and bad. He remembered his sister talking about her first crush. He had come out as bi at one. Their mom talked about an argument she got in at the post office. The kids always didn’t a say in the outcome, like when their dad got a new job and they were going to have to move across the state, but their thoughts were always heard and acknowledged. They could talk about what they didn’t like or disagreed with, as long as they did it with respect. It was a conversation, never a fight.

Jeremy sat down beside Jean on the couch with Alan on his lap, angled to face both of them, and tried desperately not to notice the way that Jean shifted a few inches away from the two of them. Jeremy reached his hand out slowly with his palm up, a silent ask which fortunately Jean decided to take despite the distance he created, and entwined it with his own. Jeremy tapped their wedding bands together, tender reminder that they were in this as a partnership. Jean squeezed back hard.

He gave Alan a tight hug. “Can you tell me about your day, bud? You’ve been a little quiet.”

“I…” Alan cast his eyes up at Jean and clamped his mouth shut again.

“Mon fils, it is okay. You can talk. I miss hearing your voice and laughter.” Jean whispered and tried to smile at their son. He didn’t quite succeed, but it was enough.

“I didn’t listen to Papa.” Alan said quietly. “He got mad and he hit my cheek. I went in my playpen. I read stories to Fish. Shh.” Their son mimed locking his lips and then put his thumb back in his mouth, leaning against Jeremy in exhaustion.

“Did it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Did it surprise you? A bad surprise?” There was a small nod against his chest. “I see. And how did you feel?” Alan shrugged in a way that only a three year old could shrug, which was with his whole body, eyes unfocused and distracted. “That’s okay. Can you tell me how Fish felt? He’s a very brave penguin.” Fish the Penguin was worn and well loved, and had been a gift from Coach Rhemann when they had adopted him. It went with Alan everywhere and Jean had bought a second one and stashed it in the closet just in case he went missing with all the travelling that they did as a family. It had been a smart move and he’d rather be prepared with a backup than deal with the aftermath of a missing Fish.

Alan frowned as he looked down at his penguin and stroked the fur a few times. “Peur.” There was a half sob, half choking sound to Jeremy’s right and he rubbed his thumb against Jean’s hand. Jeremy’s French wasn’t great, but it was passable and had only been getting better since half of Alan’s books were French and the little three year old didn’t really understand that Daddy wasn’t as good at reading certain bedtime stories as he was others so Jeremy had made the effort to improve. He wasn’t exactly going to be in political or philosophical debates any time soon, but he could easily converse with his toddler about Paw Patrol.

_Peur_. Jeremy knew that one from a story about monsters who were afraid of the humans that lived on top of their beds. Fear. Alan had been scared.

Jean crumbled completely at the single word. “Je suis tres désolé, mon coeur. So sorry.” He looked like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out to touch him, to soothe the bad memories as if it were just a nightmare, just as he had before. “J'avais peur aussi. I never want to hurt you and then I did and it scared me too. My most important job in the world is to keep you safe and I failed.”

Alan started to squirm in his arms and Jeremy knew immediately what the child was trying to do, but held him firm, eyeing his husband carefully. “Jean, are you alright to hold him?”

Jean somehow went even paler. “I’m…”

“I’m not asking if you are going to hurt him again. I know that you won’t. I’m asking if you are mentally in a place where you feel like you can and want to hold him. I don’t want you to have to push yourself if you are uncomfortable.” There had been so many times when Jean had first joined the Trojans where he would push himself harder than he was ready to and it often ended worse than it would have if he hadn’t in the first place. Jeremy was pretty sure this wasn’t the case now, but he needed to make sure. “I trust you, and he wants a hug from you. And I think you need one from him.”

Jean let go of Jeremy’s hand and reached to pick up Alan, lifting him in to his embrace with such gentle care, worried that he may accidentally break him. It was similar to when Jean first held him in the hospital when he was newly theirs, only hours old and a fraction of the size, but this time the tears that followed were out of anguish and not joy.

“I hurt him, Remy. I made him fear me.” he whispered, eyes cast down at Alan. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t make it better. I can’t undo it. I don’t know how to explain to him that it won’t happen again. Especially when I don’t know that it won’t.”

“It won’t.” Jeremy said carefully, weighing his thoughts and measuring how best to say them. “Remember when you first joined our team? It’s like that. You had to work so much harder than the rest of us on the court to relearn the game the way it should be played. This is like that. This is a yellow card moment, Jean. Trojans don’t get red cards.” Jean clenched his teeth again and nodded sharply, understanding his meaning.

_Don’t get kicked out of this game._

“I’m going to try, harder than anything, but I don’t trust myself to make that promise right now and neither should you. I could apologize every day for the rest of my life and it would never be enough.” He breathed in deep for ten seconds and it shuttered as he let it out. Three more times he repeated the action. “I need to call Theresa.” Jeremy was glad that Jean had said the words so he didn’t have to suggest that he reach out to his therapist. He didn’t have regular appointments any more, he just called when he needed to, but this felt like it was going to become a more regular part of their lives again at least for a while.

That was a good thing.

“Do you need me to come with you to a session? Or both of us?” Jeremy had gone with Jean to therapy quite a few times over the years, especially at the beginning of their relationship, and then again before they got married and then yet again before they adopted Alan. He liked Theresa a lot and she had a lot to do with Jean’s healing.

He had come so far. He was so much stronger than what he had gone through.

“Not yet.” The ‘yes’ went unspoken. “I was serious. I should leave. At least for now.” 

“You can if you feel like you need to, but just know that I don’t want or need you to. One mistake does not condemn you. If you leave, we can’t work through it together.” Jeremy closed the gap between them on the couch, and put his arm around Jean’s shoulders, holding his whole world in his embrace. “You and Alan were both scared. So am I. I’m scared about what this means going forward, because what happened is absolutely not okay but I don’t know what do to. I’m mad, because my child was hurt. I’m sad that I wasn’t here and that you are both hurting. I’m upset because I didn’t notice how much the meeting tomorrow was weighing on you and confused why you didn’t ask for help. I am worried, because while I know that it was a mistake and that part of me knows that it won’t happen again, there is still a very small part of me that is worried that it won’t be and then that will need to be a different conversation that we need to have.” He felt Jean tense at that, and Jeremy pressed a firm kiss to his temple. “But I’m also hopeful, because I know with everything that I have that that one action isn’t who you are. We can work through this, Jean. The three of us.” He lifted Jean’s chin carefully so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Je t’aime.”

“I love you too. Both of you.” Jean looked back down at Alan curled up against him. “I just don’t love me right now. I can’t. Not after what I did.”

“That’s okay. We love you enough to make up for that.”

“Papa?”

“Oui, mon coeur?”

“Can we have our picnic now that Daddy’s home? And blow bubbles?” Jeremy smiled at the words of their precious boy and he felt Jean relax, if only a fractional amount. Jean would do anything to make Alan smile on a good day. He would move planets to do so in this moment.

“Yes,” Jean’s voice cracked again, this time for a different reason. “Anything you desire.”

It was far from over, but it was a start, and that was more than enough for now.


End file.
